Mama was a Preacher
Chapter Seven
School boys.
Copyright 1996 AUTHOR22@aol.com
All rights reserved.
We spent most of Sunday trying to find an apartment for Jackie.
This expedition started with the purchase of the Sunday Examiner.
Jerry and I almost got into a fight over who was going to get first crack
at the comics. Meanwhile Jackie began leafing through the rental guide in
the classified's, circling ones that appealed to him.
Sunday's adventure also took us all over the place. The best locations would
be close to UCLA. That idea soon bit the dust. The closer we were to the
school the higher the rent was.
There were a few advertisements for apartments further west on Santa Monica
Boulevard, in the vicinity of our hotel. All of those were taken by the
time we called.
The further east we looked the more we didn't like the neighborhoods.
Check out time had come and gone, so we decided to stay put in our hotel.
Jackie would find out if they had weekly rates. Monday would be too busy to
continue house hunting. Besides, the hotel was closer to Capitol Records.
Monday, the pendulum of all things great and wonderful had swung in the
other direction. Jackie had deposited us at the Cutler Academy. Don MacMillan
wouldn't be in until after twelve. His secretary sent us across the
street to the boarding students dorm. The house mother was thin yet pregnant.
Her husband was a part time house father when he wasn't working for a
grocery store.
The dorm was a sizable two story house. The top floor had three bedrooms,
and an apartment for the house parents. Each room had four bunk beds,
accommodating eight boys to a room. Downstairs was a kitchen, dining room,
and a combination living / study / game room.
Mrs. Johnson took us upstairs. Disaster number one happened. She assigned
us to different rooms. I objected, and her only comment was that boys have
to grow up sometime; besides those were the only two vacancies.
We returned to the school building. They seated us in an empty classroom,
with a stack of papers to be filled out. Next came an entrance examination
to place our grade level. That became major disaster number two. They put
Jerry a grade behind me.
That evening we met our room mates. Our notoriety had preceded us. Most of
the boys had attended Cutler the previous year, so we were the strangers,
the intruders. Our having been on the radio challenged their seniority.
Then there was the Ensley kid. A real ass hole if you ever saw one. His
family was rich, and they had sent him to Cutler because they wanted him to
become a preacher. He was also fat, with a fat kids personality.
Sexually ... well he just wasn't. If Ernest hadn't slept in our room, we
wouldn't have known he was a boy.
Feeding twenty four boys, required that the meals be served one room at a
time.
That first night was pure hell. My super best friend, was just in the next
room, but he might just as well have been on the moon.
We were both miserable about this total separation, and sought out each
other at every opportunity. This created still another problem. The way we
felt about each other was magnified by the forced separation coupled with
being together when ever possible; and when ever possible was practically
never.
It was Ensley who first nick named us LBJ1 and LBJ2. After classes on
Wednesday we found a heart tacked to our doors, with an arrow through it.
At the top of the heart was "LBJ1", at the bottom "LBJ2". It was then
that we learned that LB meant Love Birds, and there was no doubt that the
J's stood for Jerry and Johnny.
Jerry lost his temper, yanked Ensley off of his bed, and hit him in the
nose.
The Jacksons rushed into the room, separating the two boys. Jerry had
attacked a boy in his own room. Jerry was therefore the wrong doer. Mr.
Jackson put Ensley in the car and drove him to the hospital; broken nose.
Friday night Jackie came to pick us up for the weekend. We shared our
miseries.
Jackie's week had not gone well either. He had tried three times to talk to
someone at Capitol Records, but couldn't get past the security guard. The
last time the cop told him if he came back again he'd have him arrested for
trespassing.
None of the classes that he wanted at UCLA were available. Registration
should have been weeks earlier.
Jerry said he wanted to go home to Crabtee. I didn't like California either.
It began to look like the whole trip was a bust
The silver lining part of that cloud was our total immersion in each other.
The adversity had demanded the salve of love. The three of us got out of
bed only to go to the bathroom or to eat. We simply could not get enough of
each other.
The nightmares had receded into the secret places of my mind. Even that
tantalizing image of Danny and his big dick was suppressed.
There was a International House of Pancakes at the end of the block, and it
was there that we took most of our meals.
Monday morning we were back in school. Jackie was going to have a talk with
Howard Townsend, the matter of getting the recording pressed was most
urgent.
Ensley had an uncle in Long Beach with whom he spent his weekends, as his
parents lived in Virginia. Ensley was not in class Monday. However, he
returned to the dorm late Monday evening. His nose was bandaged. The bruise
had worked it's way up to both eyes which made him look more like a cartoon
character than a real boy.
He started with the LBJ bit again, and that got me pissed off. But, David
McCoy, an older boy who slept directly above me, started yelling at Ensley
about being a real jerk.
Sometime in the middle of the night Ensely started screaming that I had
attacked him.
The Jacksons had rushed into the room. Ensley's pillow was covered with
blood. They grabbed me, yanked me out of the room, and told me to wait
downstairs in the living room.
Mr. Jackson took Ensley back to the hospital.
I told Mrs. Jackson that I had not touched him. But she insisted that the
blood was evidence that I was lying.
Tuesday, things started getting better. McCoy insisted that if I had hit
Ensley he would have known it. He didn't so I couldn't have. Nevertheless
Mrs. Jackson moved one of the boys out of Jerry's room; we swapped. Jerry
was in the top bunk, mine was the bottom.
Thursday night the shit again hit the fan. Ensley's nose started to bleed
again. He had been on the telephone to his parents. They had called the
president of the school demanding that something be done.
Dinner had been over for almost an hour. Jerry and I were siting in the
study room doing our homework. Mrs. Jackson came in, "Doctor MacMillan
would like to see you boys in his office."
I looked at the clock on the wall, it read eight-thirty. I presumed she
meant tomorrow morning.
"Now! Move it."
We hurried across the street wondering what would bring Mr. MacMillan to
the school at this time of night. The usually locked door to the school
building was open. We knocked at his office door. We could hear muffled
voices coming from within. "Come in."
Jackie was seated in the center chair. "Sit down boys."
"We've got a real problem on our hands. The board has instructed me to
revoke your scholarships."
I started to say something, but it was Jerry who asked, "Why. We didn't do
nothin."
MacMillan continued, "Except break the boy's nose. His parents are
threatening to take him out of school if he has to live with you boys."
"Well he started calling us names."
Don interrupted, "Yes, I know all about it. If it was up to me I'd expel
Ernest, but his family contributes a good deal of money to this school.
Your scholarships are funded by people like them."
Jerry looked at Jackie hoping for some help. "Why don't I just go back to
Arkansas. Johnny is the one that need's this schoolen." He paused, he was
trying to hold back the tears. "I'm just a tag along anyway."
Jackie stood up and walked behind Jerry, putting his hand on the back of
the boy's neck. "We're not giving up that easily. I think the board should
reconsider their decision. If the story ever got out that you expelled
'These two boys', and why.. ".
Don's face flushed.
"Jackie we have been friends for too long of a time for you to do something
like that."
"And I thought we had been friends for too long of a time for you to do
what you are trying to do."
"Why don't you take the boys home with you tonight. Bring them back in the
morning for their classes. I'll have a talk with the board."
Jerry and I went back to our room to get our things. We all three squeezed
into the front seat of the Model "A". We were angry. Cutler was being
unfair.
We drove back towards Hollywood. Jackie started to say, "Well, you guys
won't win an Oscar."
"Shut the fuck up Jackie. I'm going back to Crabtree."
Back at the motel I changed Jerry's mind. We were a team. Come hell or high
water we were going to remain a team.
The pendulum had again begun to move, this time away from adversity. Jackie
had asked for Howard's help, and Howard had heaped it on him.
The Don Martin School lacked a Music Department. Jackie was asked to create
one. In exchange he would be allowed to enroll in the school. The Broadcast
School was better equipped to teach what he wanted to learn than was UCLA.
They couldn't pay much, just Four Hundred a month.
Townsend had made a couple of calls to friends, setting up an appointment
for Jackie with Sid Cohen, one of the senior executives at Capitol.
His story of what happened at Capitol really lifted our spirits. He had
entered the building, the same cop that had given him such a hard time was
prepared to do it again.
"I thought I told you not to come back here." The cop had started to get
out of his chair.
Jackie told him he had an appointment.
"With whom!"
"Sid Cohen."
"What's your name?", The cop spoke in disbelief.
"Jackie Marshall".
The cops face went from red to white. "Oh my god," he gulped. He dialed a
phone. "Mr. Marshall is here for Mr. Cohen."
According to Jackie he couldn't figure out what was going on. Within seconds
a sexy big boobed blonde came to the security desk, and escorted him
to Cohen's office on the top floor. That office was not that of some
underling. Something was going on that he didn't understand.
Cohen had extended a warm welcome, and a hand shake, directing Jackie to be
seated.
"What can we do for you Mr. Marshall?"
Jackie told him exactly what he had been telling the cop downstairs. We
wanted to make some records.
Cohen then filled him in on what had been happening during the past two
weeks. Almost immediately after the airing of our song-fest transcriptions,
record stores across the country were getting requests for the music. Those
requests eventually found their way to all of the record companies, including
Capitol. They had traced the source of the recording to "The Revival
Hour Ministry" in Little Rock. They had spoken with Reverend Gregory, and
were told that we had been trying to talk to Capitol for more than a week.
Capitol wanted to release the album under their label.
As we sat there listening to Jackie, our eyes began to widen in wonder.
Sid Cohen wanted an exclusive seven year contract. Exclusive meant we could
not record for any other company during that time.
Jackie told him that it was unlikely that there would be another album. We
had tried studio recording in Little Rock and that it didn't work. We
needed an audience.
Capitol was still interested, and wanted the contract regardless. As for
the pressings of the album, "Consider it done." But he continued to push
for the contract. "The floor below this was one is nothing but lawyers.
They do everything from getting our talent out of jail, to making certain
music clearances are enforce. Next floor down is public relations. It's
their job to turn all of our artists into major stars. Hell, if it weren't
for PR Frank Sinatra would still be stuffing wienies in hot dog buns at
Yankee Stadium."
Cohen wanted to meet Jerry and I on Saturday Morning ... Nine o'clock
sharp.
Friday morning Jackie had us at school by seven-thirty. MacMillan's secretary
asked him to wait, Don wanted to speak with him. "However, the boy's
should go on to their classes."
MacMillan had not talked to the board, but the president had agreed to
reinstate the scholarship if Jerry and I lived off campus. Jackie said that
the school was reneging on the original terms. Besides, we didn't even have
a place to live; he was still in a motel.
The school owned a piece of property in West Hollywood. It had been willed
to them by an alumni who had passed on. The school had tried to use the
house as an incentive to hire a new faculty member. The deal fell through.
The house had been vacant for several months. If we liked it, we could have
it for seventy-five dollars a month. MacMillan handed over an envelope
containing the key and directions.
French was my first class of the day. I seemed to have a knack for it.
David McCoy sat next to me. He was having difficulty with his pronunciation.
Whenever he was asked to say a word, I would whisper what I thought
was the correct enunciation.
At lunch David joined Jerry and I in the cafeteria. "So I hear you guys are
going to live off campus. Sure wish I could."
We already knew how he spent his weekends, and he was the envy of every boy
in our dorm. He was big for his age. He had "kind of an aunt", who lived
in the hills behind Hollywood. She would pick him up Saturday mornings, and
return him Sunday evening. While she was in her early thirties, she looked
younger. And she had good sized boobs which were always shown off by the
tight dresses, blouses, or sweaters she wore. Her appearance was not the
reason for the envy. In an off guard moment he had confided to his room
mates that she wasn't really his aunt, just a friend of his aunt, and that
she loved to be fucked by the boy. Unfortunately, Ensley had over heard the
conversation and spread it all over campus that McCoy was going straight to
hell.
This was his second year at Cutler. His mother was a Medical Missionary
assigned to Kenya, Africa. He had spent most of his life amongst the heathen.
As the son of the only Doctor within 200 miles he enjoyed the attention of
the natives. One of the village girls had seduced David when he was just
thirteen. The affair had gone on for at least a year, before the girl had
become "with child". It was then that he had been shipped off to school in
the United States.
The Model "A" was parked in front of the administration building when we
got out of school. We hopped in next to Jackie. David tapped on the passenger
window. "Mr. Marshal, could you give me a lift into Hollywood? It
will save my aunt a trip." Jerry and I winked at each other while giving
David a knowing smile.
Jerry opened the Rumble seat. They both sat in the back. We turned the
corner and Ensley came into sight. David gave him the finger as we came to
a stop sign and then turned right.
We were anxious to look at the house. David was in no hurry so he came
along. The directions took us west on Sunset Boulevard We approached Highland.
Danny was at his regular post next to Hollywood High, his thumb
extended, his crotch bulging. The light turned green, and we proceeded
across the intersection. He looked in every passing car, making eye contact,
trying to attract new business. At first it was just what he always
did, but then he recognized me and waved. I waved back.
"What was that all about?" Jerry asked, somewhat shocked that there had
been any acknowledgment. "He's a hustler."
"He lives in our Hotel. I saw him sitting on the wall and we talked for a
long time. He's a really nice guy." I changed the subject by reading the
directions for getting to the house. "At La Cienega make a left, and drop
down to Santa Monica." We were in familiar territory. We drove past our
hotel, down to Doheny and stopped for the red light. Across the street was
a little park, and a sign that read "Beverly Hills".
"We turn left here. I think it's the 4th street down. It's called Dorrington.
It will be on our left.
The street was a well manicured residential area. "It should be down there
on the left, 8989."
We pulled into the driveway. The lawn was badly in need of mowing. The key
was for the back door. At the end of the driveway was a full sized detached
garage.
The rear door opened into a laundry room with both a washer and a dryer. To
the right was a large kitchen. On the left side of the kitchen there was a
small breakfast nook. Next was the living room. The furniture was very
masculine. There were two bedrooms and a bath: one facing the street, the
larger one facing the back yard. There was a old upright piano. Jackie ran
his fingers down the keyboard. It needed tuning.
I almost asked what we would use the second bedroom for, then remembered
David was with us.
There was no question about it; we would take the house. David asked if he
could spend weekends with us once in a while. Jerry jokingly probed, "You
mean you'd rather be here than with your aunt?"
David blushed, then said, "Guess not. But ever once in a while she works in
Las Vegas. It would be great to stay with you rather than in the dorm.
Besides, the Jacksons don't like us sleeping there on weekends."
As much as I liked David, I was not about to give up Jerry even for an
occasional weekend. I had no reason to believe that he would accept our
relationship for what it was. He'd think we were Queer. He wouldn't
understand that we loved each other.
David's aunt lived in Laurel Canyon. Hollywood Boulevard dead ends there.
It was very different from any other part of Los Angeles that I had seen.
It left the impression that you were in the mountains. The roads were
narrow and wound around sharp curves. Her house looked like a mountain
lodge, sheltered in the cove of a hill. Tree's were everywhere. The driveway
was blocked by an iron gate. David got out of the car, and pushed a
button on a box alongside of the gate. A female voice responded. "Yes?"
"It's David."
"Oh! You'll have to wait a minute, I'm getting dressed. Who is with you?"
"Friends from school."
"Oh, Darling, can they comeback some other time, I look just awful."
We hadn't planned on visiting. Jerry told me later that David could tell by
the timbre of her voice when she wanted to fuck, and according to David his
services were in immediate demand.
We backed out into Willow Glen as the iron gates automatically opened, then
proceeded down Laurel Canyon, and on to the motel. Tomorrow it would be the
meeting with Sid Cohen, then we would go shopping for sheets and stuff for
the house.
We took a circuitous route as Jackie needed to retrieve some papers he had
left at The Don Martin School.
Again Danny was still at his post on Sunset and Highland. This time he
recognized our car while we waited for the red light to turn green. As we
started to pass, he waved for us to stop. Jackie looked at me questioningly
disapproval in his eye. "Don't be an old prude. He's a nice guy, and it's
not like he doesn't live in the same hotel we do."
Reluctantly, Jackie drew close to the curb. Danny ran up to us. "Hey Johnny,
glad to see you." He paused, obviously waiting for me to introduce
him. I didn't so he continued, "I need to get home, I don't have the rent
for tonight, so I gotta move." Again he stopped, then hesitatingly, "Seem's
all my regular ... All my friends seem to be outta town."
I got out of the car, opened the Rumble seat, and sat beside him. Jackie
kept looking in the rear view mirror, obviously uncomfortable with the
situation. Danny's leg rubbed against mine all the way to La Cienega. His
cock was bulging and obviously hard. He must have noticed Jackie's constant
glancing in the rear view mirror. "The guy driving; is he your lover."
"No."
"Well, he sure as hell doesn't like the idea of our sitting together." With
that he quickly reached over and grabbed my cock. Just sitting next to him
had already gotten my rod so stiff it was about ready to break through the
fly.
He removed his hand just as suddenly. I guessed he was just teasing me. I
told him about the new house. He said he knew were we could get blankets,
sheets, and even kitchen things. They belonged to him, but were in a garage
at one of his "regulars" home.
At the motel Danny jumped out of the Rumble seat and off to his room.
I told Jackie about the offer from Danny.
"I don't think that's a good idea. It will make us owe him something."
I suggested that we take Danny up on his offer, and in exchange let him
have our hotel room which had already been paid for the rest of the week.
That way we wouldn't owe him anything, he wouldn't be out on the streets,
and we could move into the house tonight.
Jackie told Jerry and me to go on to our room, he'd talk to Danny.
A few minutes later we heard the Model "A" leave the parking lot. For the
next two hours Jerry and I were alone in the motel. The weeks deprivation
had yet to be satiated. Danny's playing around in the Rumble seat had
started my libido to secrete it's juices.
I am sure that it was mostly affection on Jerry's part that started the
horse play, but it rapidly evolved into something lustful. He tackled me
while I was standing along side of the bed, then fell on top of me. We were
face to face, lips mere fractions of an inch apart. My rod immediately went
to full inflation.
His eyes peered into mine, "So what were you and that hustler doin' in the
Rumble seat. Don't say nothin' cause I got your cherry in that thing.
Somethin's got you hot to trot."
It was unlike me to be secretive, certainly not so with Jerry. Our souls
were already bonded into one. As I unveiled the secret sins in the caverns
of my mind his body reacted, his penis growing hard, and his breath getting
faster. His lips gained a purchase on mine, precluding further confession.
The emotion of amour had changed it's color to that of passion. He was now
sitting on my stomach. I started unbuttoning his shirt. The loving was too
slow to accommodate our growing appetite. We separated removing our own
clothing as rapidly as our fingers could accomplish their task. My eyes
sought the beauty of his nakedness. My mind could not decide which part of
his body I wanted to consume. The throbbing member evoked the thoughts of
a great adventure. His lips and tongue were the sweet things from which the
dessert to this meal would be drawn.
Passion won out as we fell to the bed in a 69 position.
We teased, titillated, and prolonged. His firm abdomen would start to tense
and I would shift my attention to other parts of his body. When he sensed
that I was at the peak he would grab me roughly, and toss me around,
diverting my focus to other delights.
We were in that wrestling, but still 69 position, organs deeply inserted
when the door open, and Jackie walked in. Before we could react we heard a
youthful chuckle. It was Danny, "Oops."
Jackie said, "We should have knocked. I'm going to help Dan bring his
things down here."
They closed the door behind them. The shock of our discovery drove both of
us over the edge, as we spent ourself's deeply, lovingly, and completely
into one another.
We quickly dressed, and walked down the stairs to 108. The door was ajar.
Even so Jerry knocked, "Need some help."
All of Danny's possessions had been squeezed into a single paper bag. "Naw,
don't have much."
We carried our things to the car while Danny tossed his paper bag on to the
still mussed bed.
Jackie surprised us when he invited Danny to join us for dinner.
"Wish I could, but I've got a date tonight. Hal is supposed to pick me up
at seven. He's a lot of fun and great in the ... ," he paused, looking at
Jackie, then grinned, "He's great in the sack."
Jerry was in the middle as we drove the short distance to the house. "So
what's with you and the Ho."
Jackie looked a little uncomfortable, "Johnny was right. The kid is a nice
guy. His priorities are all screwed up, but," Jackie seemed to be thinking
for just a moment. Then, "I like him. He's just trying to survive. His
mother was a hooker who threw him out of the house three years ago when he
was twelve. He hitch hiked from Saint Louis to Hollywood. Some guy picked
him up and brought him all the way here. While the guy was nice to him, he
also raped the boy. The drive took three days and by the time they got here
Danny liked being butt fucked."
"He was dumped right there on Sunset where we first saw him. He put his
thumb out, and almost immediately was picked up by some queen who spirited
him away for an entire weekend. When they returned him to his perch he had
had his little dick sucked until it hurt, been fed a few hamburgers, and
given five dollars. He didn't even realize that he had been screwed in
more than one way."
"In the past three years he has survived by doing exactly what we have seen
him do. He has very little, yet he has a heart of gold. Those things that
he was willing to give us, was really the only things of value the kid
owns."
Jackie's voice was changing, I could tell that Danny's story of the survival
of a 12 year old on the streets of Hollywood was getting to him. "Its
amazing to me that he is as good a kid as he is. He could have stolen,
burglarized, even robbed. Instead he chose to trade the use of the only
asset he posses, his body. He isn't dumb either; he's learned a lot on the
streets in the past three years. The only question I have, is will he
always be a hustler. Is whoring now his choice of the way to survive? I
suspect it is."
Instead of being in high spirits as we moved into our new home, we felt
depressed. We could envision the little twelve year old standing on the
corner of Sunset and Highland, instead of the street smart, highly sexual
16 year old we had actually experienced.
We began setting up housekeeping with the several boxes of things we acquired
from "The Ho", as we started referring to Danny.
Even though "The Ho" may have sounded derogatory, it was spoken in a tone
reflecting genuine fondness.
The boxes were dusty, and the sheets had stains. Jerry commented, "Oh if
these sheets could only talk. What a story they could tell."
However, the reminders of the Ho's past experiences disappeared in a flood
of Proctor and Gambles most persuasive detergents.
Jackie and Jerry made a quick trip to the Safeway on Santa Monica Boulevard,
returning with tonight's supper as well as tomorrows breakfast. I
washed Ho's dirty dishes, and made a mental note to ask him why he had
stored the dishes without first washing them.
The Ho continued to dominate our conversation. I think we all had, without
realizing it, accepted Danny as part of our growing family.
Saturday morning started early. Jackie made ham and cheese omelettes. We
were due at Capitol at nine o'clock, so we stacked the dishes in the sink,
and split.
Jackie was wearing a coat, tie, and jacket. My clothes were just slacks,
and a sport shirt. Jerry wore his usual: Levi's, Cowboy boots, Western
Shirt, and Cowboy Hat set on the back of his head.
The security guard at Capitol greeted us as we entered the building. "Oh,
Mr. Marshall it's nice to see you again. Take that last elevator to the top
floor, Mr. Cohen's waiting for you."
It didn't seem that the doors to the lift had been closed for more than 5
seconds when they again opened. The big boobed blonde greeted us, "This way
gentlemen." Her small, wiggling butt was the center of attraction as
she led the way.
There was a slender boy about our own age already seated alongside of
Cohen's desk. "So these are the two lad's causing all of the commotion.
Glad to meet you." The big man extended his hand to me. "And this is my son
Robbie."
The youth had dark hair and dark eyes. His smile was genuine. "Hi." He was
shorter than either Jerry or me. He also exuded more energy than others of
his age.
Sid motioned for us to be seated. "Jackie, do we have a deal?"
"I don't see why not."
"Good, good. We need those tapes as quickly as possible. Call Reverend
Gregory, tell him we'll have a courier pick them up sometime tomorrow.
Didn't you say something about pictures being taken during the ... What did
you call it? A song-fest?"
Jackie described the photos and how they were taken.
"Good, good. Have him put the pictures in the same box. You can use the
phone in the other office. Tell Sally to take you into Hanks office. Have
him call us as soon as the package is ready. Robbie, see if your friend
Nate wants to fly out to Little Rock tonight."
"I want to audition that tape first thing Monday morning." Sid punched a
button on his desk. "Sally, get your butt in here."
I asked if Capitol was going to fly someone to Little Rock to pickup the
tapes. He said that was the idea. I suggested to Jackie that he ask Ray to
have Peter bring the tapes. If they did that Sid would not only get the
tapes earlier, but he could meet another member of our group.
While Jackie was calling Little Rock, Robbie began asking questions. He was
curious about our age, how long we had been singing, and how long we had
been working together.
When I told him about the revival circuit he became fascinated, and asked
even more questions.
Jerry tried to explain "the thing", but even I couldn't do that, so all we
could do is tell him he'd have to wait to hear the recording.
Jackie returned, "Peter will be on the Midnight plane tonight. Ray will see
that he doesn't miss it. We will meet him tomorrow morning at six."
We felt so good about the meeting with Sid Cohen that we decided to invite
Danny to lunch. The motel office said he had checked out early that very
morning after having obtained a refund of the unused rent.
Several times that day we found excuses to run errands that required we
pass Sunset and Highland. Ho was not at his post.
Six AM Sunday was awful early, especially when you have to drag your butt
out of bed at four-forty-five in order to be at the airport at that STUPID
hour. However, we made it.
Jackie, as always, assumed the responsibility of getting us there on time.
That isn't to say that Jerry and I were not equally enthusiastic about
seeing Peter Hay. He had been closer to us than anyone else in the Hay
family, including Jimbo; yet Jimbo was closer to our age.
Sex play brings people closer together, than does any other activity.
Peter's aggressiveness in that department had endeared him to us.
The American Airlines flight from Little Rock was 20 minutes late. We had
seated ourselves next to the exit gate. Jerry, had fallen asleep, but it
was Jackie that first spotted Peter. Even though we had been away from
Arkansas for just under two months, it seemed to me that he had grown
taller, become a little more muscular, and had become more handsome. His
hair was also different; blonder, shaggier, more mature.
I had been expecting him to be wearing his Levi's as that was what he
usually wore. However he was dressed in new clothes. His slacks were a
light tan, and very form fitting. I could even tell he was wearing Jockey
shorts and not boxers. His shirt was the kind you wear with a tie, but he
didn't have one on.
I shook Jerry, "Hey Cowboy, there's Pete."
Jackie was already embracing him before Jerry and I got there. He looked
tired. "Flying is really somethin'. Ya can push them seats back. Almost
like being in bed." He disengaged himself from Jackie, and wrapped his arms
around the two of us, squeezing us tightly. "So what's goin' on that's so
all fired important that Capitol Records flew me out here?" He had emphasized
"Capitol Records" in wonderment, an implied "Wow".
During the trip back to West Hollywood we told him everything that had
happened since we had left Arkansas. The excitement had driven away the
weariness.
The first question that both Jerry and I had was "How long can you stay."
"Dad said to stay as long as I wanted." Then, he kind of laughed and added,
"You know I still didn't get into Mary-Lou. She's given up fucking since
you touched her that night."
I couldn't help but jibe him, "And that still makes you a virgin ...
Right?"
He made a grab for me, "Not necessarily."
Having a new tenant made it necessary to alter the sleeping arrangements.
Even though we had two fully equipped bedrooms we all three had slept in
the large bed in the back bedroom. That bed was not big enough for four.
The front bedroom had two narrow twin beds. Peter suggested we move the
twins next to each other, and tie them, making a single large bed.
It was mid afternoon when we moved the beds together.
We heard a knock on the front door. I answered it. It was Ho.
The boy looked quite weary. He was not smiling. His eyes were red. "Hey
man, I'm beat."
I held the door open for him to enter as Jackie came in. "Danny, you look
like something the cat dragged in. Where have you been."
Before he could answer, Peter came into the room. Peter's expression of
curiosity changed to astonishment as he viewed Ho. We had told Peter about
this Hollywood Hustler. Even though Danny was younger than Peter, he was
not prepared for what he saw; the ravages of a single weekend of survival
in this hostile world whose primary interest in any lad hitching on Sunset
Boulevard was lustful, not loving, sex.
I introduced the two.
There was a moment of silence.
Danny was the first to adjust, "Nice to see you. You just visiting?" I
think we all could see curiosity change to appreciation as his eyes examined
Peter more closely.
Peter's face began to redden from Ho's obvious interest.
Jerry, Ho, and I sat on the couch. Jackie had returned to the bedroom.
Peter sat in a chair facing us.
We began talking about the album, and the Revival Hour ministry. This was a
side of our group Danny had not been exposed to.
Rather than being surprised, or left out, he joined in our conversation,
asking questions. Then he looked at me very strangely, with an almost
sarcastic edge to his voice he asked, "So are you the kind of preacher that
tells Queers their going to heaven, or the kind that tells everybody Queers
are going to hell?"
Again, there was dead silence. I felt as though a gauntlet had been slapped
across my face.
"Danny, I'm not a preacher. But I do believe that God does not make mistakes.
He made us. He made us what and who we are. You know quite well that
I love Jerry. You saw us yesterday. I don't call us Queer. We love each
other. We always have, we always will."
Ho stood up. "Sorry, my fuckin mouth sometimes opens itself. Didn't mean to
say anything bad. Guess, I'd better get outta here."
Jackie joined us as Ho started toward the door. "Danny, where are you
going?"
"I just put my foot in my mouth. I'd better go."
"Sit back down. There is something going on that you are not telling us.
Has it got something to do with your being gone for the weekend, and your
checking out of the motel?"
Eventually, Jackie calmed him down, and got him to share his weekend
adventure.
I asked him what was wrong. Danny replied that he didn't want to talk
about it.
Jackie noticed a bruise on his right wrist. It was then that I noticed the
boy was sitting oddly, kind of resting on one buttocks rather than squarely
in his seat.
After being confronted with his obvious condition he began to tell us the
story.
He'd been at his perch Friday night when a neat looking man of about thirty
approached him, walking. The guy asked if Danny was into kinky sex. Until
then he had only experienced older men wanting to blow him, or occasionally
if the reward was large enough, he would be willing to give a blow job.
"I'm not queer, though," he explained. Still, more from curiosity than
anything, he asked the stranger, "How much?" When the man said he would
pay two hundred dollars for an all niter, Danny was impressed.
He had little money, and the room was paid up for only a few days. He did
not have enough money on him even to buy a hamburger at the time, so without
serious further consideration, Danny agreed to the proposal.
The man said, "My name's Larry. Shake on it." Danny told him his own name
took the man's hand, a confirmation of their pact. Larry then said, I
don't want any misunderstandings, Danny. I have a friend who will join in
with us. Is that okay?"
"Why not," he answered, and with that, Larry signaled a van parked a little
way from where they stood.
The vehicle pulled up and they got into the back. It was furnished more
like a tiny living room than a truck. There was a couch facing front, as
well as a small television, and even a small refrigerator. "This is Bill,
Danny," explained Larry. Bill turned `round in acknowledgment of the
introduction, and they started off.
Larry pulled two beer bottles from the frig and handed one to the boy as
they drove along. The van had no side windows except at the drivers seat -
only the windshield and a small oval at the rear. When they'd gulped the
beers down to near empty, Larry took the bottles and placed them in builtin
holders. Then, without further ado, he pulled Danny to him in an em
brace. He stretched out on the couch with Larry on top, and began some
very pleasant, and even romantic, pre play.
They drove for quite a while, making a number of turns, until finally they
pulled into a driveway, and the van came to a stop. He had no idea where
he was. When they left the vehicle, he saw that tall shrubbery totally
obscured the driveway's entrance. He noticed an impressive two story
structure behind the large garage like edifice they were heading for, but
could not even be sure it was part of the same property. Once inside,
Danny became aware of a large single room that appeared accoutered more
like a gymnasium than living quarters.
"Strip down," Danny was immediately commanded by Larry. He was no longer
the pleasant guy he had been necking with only moments before. "And put on
what Bill gives you." Danny was slightly taken aback by this attitude, but
for two hundred bucks I can handle a domineering tone. He did as told
and put on the cutoff jean shorts and short-sleeved rayon shirt Bill handed
him.
As soon as he finished buttoning up, Bill fastened a padded black leather
strap on his right wrist. A long rope tied to this was attached to the
ceiling in some fashion. While this was going on, Larry brought out a fifth
of Jack Daniel's bourbon and offered it to Danny's unhindered left hand.
Danny started to explain he was not a bourbon drinker, but was interrupted
by Larry. "Drink all you can, kid. You're gonna need it, it'll make
things easier for you."
This little speech, delivered in an increasingly sinister mien, alarmed
Danny enough so that he upturned the bottle and took a big gulp. He nearly
gagged on the unaccustomed fiery liquid, but managed to control his slightly
queasy stomach. Aware now that he was in for some pretty abusive treat
ment, he spoke out, "Hey, look you guys. I'm sorry, but I guess I'm really
not into this sort of thing. Please, just let me take off. You don't even
have to give me a ride - I can hitch-hike."
"You're here, Danny! You made a deal and WE sure as hell are going
through with it. Drink up so we can get on with it." Danny was really
worried now. Larry and Bill meant business, and he realized there wasn't a
hell of a lot he could do to prevent whatever was about to happen. "No use
crying," so believing he'd better get as sauced as he could, he gulped down
some more bourbon, until Bill pulled the bottle away from him.
At this point, Larry pulled a holeless black cotton hood over Dannys head
and fastened it lightly at the neck. His left wrist was next secured with
a similar device, as his right had been, and his arms were stretched above
his head until he was standing only on tiptoes. At this point, he was more
angry at himself, than scared - for having been stupid enough to allow
himself to be trapped like this. His thinking was cut short as he felt the
sharp pain of some kind of lash strike across his back. His knees involuntarily
doubled up toward his chest from the shocking pain. "Holy shit," he
thought. "I'm gonna get the shit beat out of me. These guys must be
nuts."
"That won't do," he heard one of them growl. Four hands pulled his legs
apart as leather restraints with some kind of stiff rod between them were
fastened to his ankles. Before he could give much consideration to this new
imprisonment, he felt his legs pulled back. A new broad strap was secured
to his waist, and he found himself being hoisted, face down, off the floor.
The whipping commenced in earnest for several strokes, and although he
tried not to react in what he felt would be a cowardly fashion, yells of,
"Please stop," and even a scream were produced by this torture. "Yell
your fuckin head off kid. The room is soundproofed," from, he knew not
which. "Yeah. We like a little noise," from the other.
The whipping from both men was severe enough so that it tore pieces out of
the shirt Danny was wearing. One of them ripped the remnants of it off
Danny's body, roughly. His legs and torso were lowered to the floor and
Danny found that though he could stand now, he was quite wobbly. Someone
unbuttoned the fly on his jeans, pulled the shorts down as far as they
would go, what with his legs spread out by the restraints, and toyed with
his flaccid member. Danny's cock was then tenderly sucked until it became
rigid and Danny began to think that maybe this is all there would be to it.
He would use all his concentration to cum rapidly -- and then he could go
home. He was, for the second time that evening beginning to enjoy the
experience, when the mouth suddenly let go of him, and some flat object was
slammed against his testicles.
The shriek he let out was horrendous. His stomach convulsed, threatening
vomit from the agony. "Vomit, and you'll wear it inside that hood all
night, you fucking hustling punk," from someone. Taking long slow breaths,
and using all the willpower he could muster, Danny was able to avoid such a
calamity, at least for now. He heard the metal on metal scrape sound of
scissors, and for a moment panicked, afraid he might be about to be deballed.
His fright helped him from thinking about the lessening excruciat
ing pain in his scrotum. The scissors were used to cut the shorts off.
Now he was totally naked, and totally helpless.
Again he was hoisted up horizontally, face down. Something was fastened to
each of his nipples, adding new pain and discomfort. Flogging commenced
with what Danny believed to be wide leather straps. From on top, all the
way across his body, from legs to neck, and likewise from underneath on his
suspended torso. He moaned from the pain being inflicted. His arms felt
as though they might at any moment be completely pulled out of their sockets,
they ached so very much. A weight of some kind was now suspended from
his testicles, adding a further new pain and bringing a fear that he might
never again have use of them. His mind, no longer willing to accept the
outrage, turned off. Danny passed out.
When he became somewhat awake again, he found himself stretched over some
flat surface, with his head just past the support under his torso, and his
legs still spread apart and firmly secured at a lower height. His hood was
unsecured from around his throat, and pulled off roughly. Danny's eyes
focused on the biggest dildo he had ever seen. Holding it toward Danny
stood one of his inquisitors, now in the full leather of a torturer who
might have worked at an inquisition supervised by Torquemada. All in black
leather. A hood with eye and mouth holes, crisscrossed leather straps
across his chest, and bikini sized leather shorts with a hole cutout in
front through which the man's large cock was hanging limply. Danny looked
with astonishment at the impossible dildo as the man growled, "Now you're
gonna suck my cock like it was the most wonderful thing you could get your
mouth around. Do a good job or this itsy-bitsy dildo is gonna get rammed
up your ass, and when it comes out all sour and bloody, you'll lick it
clean before it's rammed down your throat.
Danny, in spite of hurting all over like never before in his life, decided
he had no choice but to comply. "These are no normal gays. I'll die if I
resist at all. I may die anyway and have parts of me dumped all over the
city," Not wanting to continue that thought, he opened his mouth to the
advancing, fully nine or ten inch, cock. Just as it entered his mouth, a
new sharp pain assaulted his rectum as his second torturer jammed his hard
cock up Danny's ass. Danny almost bit down on the massive tool in his mouth
from the pain. Instead, he lost consciousness again.
He came awake this morning sometime to find himself slumped over on a
wooden bench by a bus stop. He was fully clothed with what he had worn the
Friday evening. He had no idea where he might be, and found himself cowering
somewhat from people passing by. He noticed a cab approaching and
thought about his wallet. When he felt his back pocket, he was surprised
to feel it was still there. Quickly, he pulled it out, and to his complete
amazement found four fifty dollar bills, along with five twenties. Hailing
the cab, he staggered to it and got in, asking the driver to take him to
our house. Strangely, the driver did not seem to notice anything amiss
about Danny.
He reached for his wallet as proof of his truthfulness, he noticed a note
placed in his wallet.
He handed to me and asked me to read it to him, "There's an extra hundred
for you here. You were terrific, Danny. And I hope there are no hard
feelings." The note was signed, "Larry."
I had never known anyone who had such a shocking tale to tell before, and
all I could do was shake my head and say, "Those bastards. They should be
tortured to death." With that crooked little smile of his, Danny responded.
"You know, you're the only guys I'd ever tell all this to. But, you know
what? Weird as it is.. Somehow - now that some time has passed, I feel,
Shit. I don't know, Somehow, I feel kind of, of a longing."
I looked around at the others. Their expression reflected the horror that
had been on my face.
Jackie broke the ice, "Danny, you ever think of giving up this kind of
life?"
"So what else am I gonna do. I ain't got no education. Besides, I am good
at what I do."
Peter surprised the hell out of us all. "Would you be willing to go back to
Arkansas and work on the farm with me?"
Peter and Ho had paired off, with Peter assuming the unlikely role of
"nurse" soothing Danny's tortured body.
We had dinner at home.
Danny and Peter shared the large bed in the front bedroom.
Monday morning we were to meet with Sid Cohen at Capitol. Though we had
accepted Danny into our family, Jackie didn't completely trust him, and
asked Jerry to stay behind to look after the teenager. Peter was expected
by Sid, so either Jerry or I would need be the babysitter. Jerry was elected.
We arrived at the Capitol Record building shortly after nine. The cop at
the door waved hello. We started to the elevator. The cop said, "Mr. Cohen
is waiting for you on the sixth floor. Use the first elevator on your
right."
Capitol had an auditorium specifically designed for auditioning. Acoustically
it was what was described as a "dead room". There were no speakers in
sight. The walls would only absorb sound, not reflect it, or modify it in
any way. If there was a control room it was not visible. The chairs were
large overstuffed furniture of the kind found in plush living rooms. There
were twelve of them.
Sid and Robbie Cohen were already seated when we entered the room.
Jackie introduced Peter, and handed Sid the box from Little Rock. Apparently
a button had been pushed as a technician appeared and took the tapes.
"Ok gentlemen, make yourself comfortable, and let's see what we've got
here." Sid turned to his son. "Listen carefully, I want your honest opinion."
As in Little Rock, the frilly sounds of Jackie's intro to "Beautiful Isle
of Somewhere", was beautiful and relaxing. But the sound was different.
Capitols sound system was much better, and the lack of reverberation seemed
to focus the sound, making it clearer. The presence of the audience was now
more dominate than it had been in the earlier "listening".
I glanced at Robbie, he had moved from a slouched position to fully
upright.
Peter's voice was clearer, more melodic, yet it continued to dominate.
The background sounds coming from the audience was more noticeable, and it
seemed to be those sounds which were creating a feeling of excitement.
Even Sid, who must have heard everything that was to be heard in the record
business was suddenly paying more attention.
The five seconds of silence that preceded the last number was now obviously
faked, as there was absolute silence. It was like your ears had been sucked
into a vacuum.
Now that first note was more startling, more alive, more explosive. Again,
the sounds from the audience were more conspicuous, and their effect on me
became more noticeable. I was being enveloped by those sounds, my entire
being was entering into an interaction. For the first time I could clearly
see what was happening. You could see the resonance take place. I could see
the building of "the Thing".
At the climatic conclusion, the Capitol Sound system clearly projected the
words that had flown from my mouth "Be Gone!"
I could feel people staring at me.
Sid said simply, "I'll be damned!"
We were out of the Capitol building by noon, and back at school by one.
Contrasting the climactic events of the morning, with the humdrum of bible
study at Cutler, made the classroom even more boring than usual.
Also, Ensley was being more of a jerk than ever.
As time went on, the high spice of the Capitol adventure lessened.
About the only thing that changed was that Ho moved in with Peter and
stopped hustling. Jackie talked Howard Townsend into hiring the boy as a
custodian for the Don Martin school.
Saturday morning we made it a practice of sharing our "weeks" experience.
Jackie felt it would bring us closer together, since we led such diverse
lives.
It was Ho that began injecting questions of Philosophy into these confabs.
We hadn't seen Robbie Cohen since the audition, yet one Saturday morning he
appeared at our door, asking how we were doing. Jackie was warm and cordial
to the lad, but later said he thought Sid's son was just keeping an eye on
us for his dad.
But, Robbie's visit became regular ones, and he entered into those discussions
on what the world was all about. He also was the one to start talking
about "the Thing" as though he knew more about it than did we. He had
encountered this kind of happening in early Jewish writings, as he studied
the Torah. He wanted me to meet his Rabbi.
Sister Aimee had drifted far into the background as I studied more and more
about religion. It all seemed to stem from the early Hebrews. Whether you
believed religious writing or not, they were, at the very least, a recorded
history of man and his behavior in this world. There was much to be
learned.
I had, alone in this group, been the only one to ever sample "the Thing".
It was compelling, it was addictive. I must learn more.